A Little Love for the Mediocre
Mediocracy might be a portal to innovation
It’s terrifying to start something new. My career has been built on writing for other people, so creating this space where it is my voice, my unique expression, is something I’m not used to.
It took me a long time to even open up to the idea of using a platform to share my voice, that my perspective might invoke something in someone else. Which is why I wanted to use this first love note to hold space for showing up. Even if showing up means you might be mediocre.
How many times did you discover something you were interested in only to stop yourself because you knew you would never master it?
All growing up, I was taught to pair down my interests. Constantly narrow down, niche, focus on the interests that I was actually able to master because there was no way I could master everything I was interested in. Pick a side; math and science or english and history. Logic or creativity. You’ll be more successful if you stick to one topic to master. And don’t dare start a hobby unless you plan on putting in consistent hours to master it.
I was taught silence unless I had expertise. I was taught my voice was not valid unless I had proven my knowledge and success.
Over and over again it was reflected that the most important aspects to life were Expertise and Certainty.
I would feel shame for wanting to explore a new interest because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to master it, that maybe I just wanted to experiment. And then felt guilty if I had gotten so far in an interest, only to realize that it no longer filled me with joy.
My lack of expertise was a shadow glued to my back, dragging me down further every time something new held my attention. Every new hobby or idea made me feel like I was filling my mind with more clutter, fearing I would never reach that expertise that was apparently so vital to my happiness.
But, I recently found my very first painting.
I remember the exact moment that I decided I wanted to paint something. I was 12 years old and started having this dream.
In the dream, there was a girl sitting in the middle of the road on top of a hill with a flower in her hair and a backpack next to her. And she was just watching as the road branched out into all of these paths. It was like a road she had never seen. It made no sense. But, she felt so calm just sitting there, watching.
The dream echoed through my mind all day. It was like a ringing in my ear and I just needed to get it down on something to try and understand why I kept having the dream. So my mom graciously bought me a canvas and an oil paint kit; because I was convinced to be great I had to have oil paint.
I sat down at my artist station with my brushes and turpentine and just started painting this image in my head. It felt so good to tap into this imagery that seemed like it had chosen me to channel; like I had finally tapped into what I was meant to be an expert in so I could have a taste of what it meant to know my path.
And the painting was horrible. I cried after I painted it so defeated that I wasn’t the prodigy I so desperately wanted to be and didn’t paint again for years. It was truly tragic for someone that was used to being a top student.
I’m going to show you because I trust you. But, just know, this is a vulnerable moment for me. But, in the name of mediocracy, we must be willing to show up.
I couldn’t throw it out though. There was something about it that I knew I needed to hold onto it, no matter how much it made me cringe.
And seeing it now, I realized that it represented an expression I was starting to discover. When I dreamt about the girl on the hill and tried to recreate it, it was as if I was trying to reach out and touch all the possible timelines I could move toward. That first imagery was opening me up to something that would become extremely important to me and my expression today.
Without that first dream and attempt at actualizing it on a canvas, I would have never opened up to portals and identities. I might not have explored the possibility of shifting that identity or looked into philosophers like Nietzsche or Heidegger who said “Every man is born many men and dies a single one,” or discovered neuroscience, learning about the infinite timeline theory, all of which are so prevalent in my writing and art today.
Finding that painting reminded me that the expertise is not in a field of study, or in a talent. It is the expertise of yourself and your unique voice through the experimentation of the mediocre. Mediocracy is a portal into understanding and mastering your Self.
This isn’t a slander ad against expertise either. Expertise in a field, in a craft, in a career, is amazing and needed. It helps guide us in the systems that are in place and creates foundations that benefit us on a collective level. But, expertise is for what is already here, what has already been actualized. Can you be an expert on something that doesn’t even exist yet?
When we allow ourselves to experiment and show up even if we are mediocre, even if we don’t know the techniques or rules, we create the potential to discover what could be. Ever heard of beginner’s luck? It happens because as a beginner we aren’t bound by the rules and systems that tell us how something should be. So when we don’t know much about something, it is actually the perfect time for discovering something that may completely change the very structure and rules we were so focused on learning.
An affirmation I’ve been saying to myself every morning is
Everything will connect
Maybe we can reframe the idea of Master of One, to mean the Master of Self. The journey to that can lead to extraordinary things, and avoiding interests because we might not master them is a devastating consequence of our obsession with clarity and expertise.
Subtle Activations
So in honor of this first letter, I wanted to offer a foundation toward self-mastery through the beauty of mediocracy. Ponder these questions throughout your week and take note of any patterns that may come up.
Describe someone who is mediocre. What are their traits? How might they look? Are they happy? Are they judged? Do they have goals or are they lazy?
Now, imagine someone you care about calls you mediocre. How do you feel? Shameful? Guilty? Unbothered? Angry?
What do you feel defines expertise versus mediocracy?
Is there something you’ve always been curious about trying? Why haven’t you?
Do you think you’re capable of shifting your career? How would it feel to try a completely new industry? Would you feel like a failure or would it be exciting?
Keep a list with two columns. The first column write things you are mediocre at and the second column write what lesson you are learning and why you are grateful for it. If we were an expert at everything, we’d be bored out of our minds. If we start showing gratitude for the aspects that we aren’t particularly fond of, maybe even ashamed of, we start to see the threads that will connect us deeper within ourselves towards our most authentic self.
For example, I’m really mediocre at cooking. I used to feel a lot of shame around it, but being mediocre with cooking has helped me explore what food means to me and helped strengthen my relationship with my body.
The goal isn’t to avoid what we might not be amazing at. And it isn’t a cop-out to never improve either. Holding space for mediocracy is an invitation to worthiness, no matter where we are or what we know. Being an expert does not make you more worthy. Being mediocre does not make you less. Having the courage to show up fully as yourself and experiment through your mediocracies, is what will lead you to discover the mastery of yourself.